8 August, 1995 - Dinner

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Dinner was an awkward affair for Lavinia. Or more accurately, arriving to dinner was an awkward affair. Perhaps, Lavinia reasoned, because everyone had probably expected her conversation with Harry to be a complete and utter disaster. And it hadn't been. Which was still puzzling Lavinia as she planted herself firmly between Hermione and Arthur and completely ignored the looks she knew both Remus and Sirius were giving her. Molly at least had the decency to be more interested in how Harry was faring and Sirius quickly followed suit, the frown on his face fading and something like hollowness that Lavinia hadn't noticed until it was gone blurred itself away. Remus, on the other hand, seemed to hesitate for a bit longer and Lavinia eventually deigned to look directly at him.

If she was honest, she was surprised by the worry she saw there. Almost as soon as she registered it, however, guilt replaced it, curling in the pit of Lavinia's stomach. She shouldn't be mad at Remus. Yes, he hadn't butted in when Sirius had been shouting at her, but Remus rarely jumped into arguments, especially if it was a conflict he thought simply needed to work itself out. Besides which, she knew where he stood on Harry and though lines had clearly been crossed in that argument with Sirius... well. Perhaps Remus had simply thought it wasn't his place to jump in. And then, of course, she'd been mad because he hadn't come after her, but hadn't Dumbledore told them all that the most important thing to do was to continue with their work. And Remus's work was not with her at the house. It was elsewhere. Among werewolves, gathering information. And it was far more important than the petty pains of her heart.

Which was why Lavinia offered Remus a small, almost apologetic smile, which he returned. The expression made something warm pool in Lavinia's stomach, brightening her up for the first time in what felt like weeks and had actually just been days. Because the idea that Remus might have been dead set against her, that Remus might have voluntarily walked away when she was spiraling... that had hurt worse than Sirius's words, than his looks. Because Remus was her rock, her constant. And had been through thick and thin. The idea that something like this could have gotten between them was terrifying. And she was more than glad to put this completely and totally behind them.

After a moment, however, Lavinia turned away, settling back into something like normalcy as she served herself stew and then listened vaguely to the conversation at hand. On one side of her Arthur was talking with Remus and Tonks about some serious business or another and on the other side, Hermione was rambling on to a politely attentive Bill Weasley about what subjects she was excited to take in the coming year and what they might cover.

"I mean it's our OWL year," Hermione was saying excitedly. "There's so much more to learn and I'm sure they'll go into more detail when we revise for exams. Of course, exams themselves are terrifying so I've already started studying for some because I really want to do well on all of them no matter what I decide to continue to NEWT. I suppose at some point they do career considerations, right? Only I don't really know what I'd like to do. Something meaningful of course, but..." She trailed off with a slight frown and Lavinia smiled, suddenly reminded of someone else and a promise she'd made.

"You'll have the chance to talk it out with your head of house," Bill was saying, his voice gentle and his manner rather placating. "And you don't really need to settle on something this year. I knew what I wanted but some people take longer to decide."

Hermione hummed a bit skeptically and Lavinia smiled again. "I didn't decide until my seventh year," she pitched in.

Hermione turned to look at her, surprised. "But how did you know what classes to take?" she pressed, looking like she thought waiting so long was a rather risky business.

"I continued almost all of them," Lavinia admitted with a slight chuckle. "I took eight NEWTs."

"Eight?" Ron pitched in from across the table, staring at Lavinia with an expression that said he thought she was completely and utterly insane. "What are you off your rocker?"

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